Savior
by Fight4JadeWest
Summary: "Words and promises all sound so good when they're first spoken." Rated T for minor mentioning of self-harm.


**Disclaimer 1: I do not own Victorious in any way, shape, or form. That flash drive in the top drawer of my desk doesn`t count.**

**Disclaimer 2: I am not responsible for any "Extreme Feelings" developed during/after the reading of this story.**

**A/N: I wrote this on a five hour bus ride. I was bored and tired. I hope you still enjoy my writing despite the above-mentioned extreme feelings. FYI, its Jade`s POV. Just wanted to make that clear.**

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Sometimes life sucks. People suck, too. I've had enough of people. They lie.

Even Beck—the boy I thought I loved—lied to me. He told me he loved me, that we could be together forever.

I told him the same. I guess that means I lied, too.

We didn't mean to lie to each other. Words and promises all sound so good when they're first spoken. In truth, though, we _can`t_ be together forever. We don't _really_ love each other, either. Not that way. I mean, we can't take away what we felt those three years we were together. Those three years that were the best—and most painful—years I can remember. We're just not meant for each other.

Maybe we're soulmates. Technically, that means we're perfect for each other. In some ways, we are. What it doesn't mean is that we have to be together. Sometimes, a soulmate isn't meant to be the one you spend the rest of your life with. Sometimes, a soulmate is meant to come into your life, bring you pleasure and challenges, jerk you away from your fantasies and delusions, and leave as quickly and silently as they'd come. Seems insignificant, or maybe kinda pointless, I guess, but believe it or not, if you're lucky enough to find them, that person will change your life.

Beck changed my life. Before I met him...

Before I met Beck I was a disaster. I was depressed. I cut. My parents were getting a divorce and my father was lashing out. He hit me, and cursed me, and blamed me for everything. He lied to me, too. He used to tell me all the time how much I was loved. Obviously, that wasn't true. Dad proved it. To him, there was a problem with every part of me and he wasn't afraid to tell me. After hearing that kind of crap for so long, you start to believe it. Why would anyone say that to someone they loved? I guess, with all the hurt andconfusion, I just sort of snapped.

One day, after a rather vicious screaming match with my mom, Dad broke a beer bottle over my head. Then, he just left. I didn't see him for a year. In that time, he had been sleeping around with hookers and eventually checked into to rehab for alcoholism. No one mentioned the abuse. No one cared to get him arrested for beating me and sending me to the hospital for stitches along the huge gash in my scalp. My mom cleaned up the blood and moved on. Once Dad had gotten sobered up, he settled the divorce with my mom and got remarried. I wish it was as easy for me as it was for them.

During all this, neither of my parents seemed to really care what happened to me. Yeah, they noticed when I got bad grades, when I dyed my hair, got a tattoo. What they didn't notice was how depressed I got. How angry, and defensive, and, deep down, how scared I was.

There was even one time, at the lowest point of my seemingly-bottomless depression, where I just couldn't take it anymore. No one loved me. No one wanted me. My dad came back from rehab and continued treating me like a punching bag every chance he got. What was left? Nothing. I almost ended everything right there.

I made it as far as the roof of the school. Suddenly, the door to the stairwell opened. Standing there was a boy I had never seen before. Seeing what I was obviously about to do, he rushed over and, before I could stop him, yanked me away from the edge. There, in that stranger's strong arms, I broke down and cried. Whether it was out of relief or frustration, I`ll never know.

Sobbing, I tried to explain how worthless I was. How, for the love of all that's holy, he _needed_ to let me jump. What's the big deal if I died? Nobody would miss me. It would probably be weeks before anyone even noticed.

Immediately, though, this person I'd never met became my protector. My knight in shining armor, cheesy as it sounds. Right from the beginning, the complete stranger knew how to care for me. He held me and rubbed my back, not arguing with me or telling me nonsense about how somebody out there somewhere loves me and will miss me when I die. Probably knowing I wouldn't listen if he did, he just let me get it all out. That stranger was Beck.

Eventually, I stopped cutting and began to see the worth in myself again. With Beck's help, I began to realize how important it was that I lived my life. I was never quite the same of course. I still pushed people away. I was detached, and mean, and dark, and untrusting.

I knew that at any second Beck could not want me anymore. Deep down in the back of my mind, I always knew that one day he could be like my dad and decide not to love me.

I'll never forget what Beck did for me. He was the first and only person who ever really knew me. He literally saved my life and I'm forever grateful. But, I understand now that things change. People change. Feelings change. I don't hold it against him anymore. I'm OK on my own now.

Maybe someday I'll be happy again. Maybe someday I won't have to lie anymore—not to myself or anyone else. Maybe someday I'll trust again. Maybe someday...

Maybe someday I'll be able to love someone else.

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**A/N: Much darker than my other stuff huh? Did you like it anyway? **

**Please review. I`ll send you your very own imaginary friend. Isn`t that nice? Why wouldn`t you want an imaginary friend? **

** Also, if you review from your account, I`ll check out your profile. Gosh, I`m being too nice now. I`d better go before I offer to give you my house.**


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